Out Of The Shadows
by prosfan
Summary: When Hathaway starts making questionable decisions, he gets firm advice from and unlikely source. Written for the Lewis Challenge Fright Fest 2016. Warnings for character with suicidal tendencies and discussion of Dementia. Rated M for same reason
1. Chapter 1

Written for the Lewis Fright Fest 2016. Warnings for character with suicidal tendancies and discussions regarding dementia.

Robbie frowns at the back of James' head, as the lad sits at his computer opposite. There's something off about the young man, there has been for a while now, but Robbie can't put his finger on exactly what it is. James doesn't seem to have actually changed; his wit is still sharp, and he's still being cheeky. He's still playing with his band, he's still bringing Robbie coffee in the morning. He's still quoting random poetry and he's still treating their victims with the gentleness and compassion that Lewis has come to expect from him. But something isn't right.

He knows that at best, trying to have a conversation about it will make them 'have words', and at worst, he'll make Hathaway go all prickly and cold for the next few days. Even so, there's a little voice in his head that insists that Hathaway needs help, regardless if neither of them know why.

"That's enough for today James." James stretches and nods, getting up and reaching for his coat.

"I thought you were never going to say that." Robbie returns the smile, before taking a breath. Best to say something now, while Lizzie is on secondment. She's not back till the New Year, and he'll get nothing out of James is he undermines him in front of hi sergeant.

"James is...is everything alright?" He wishes he didn't, but Robbie sees the stiffening of James' shoulders, signalling that he's having none of it today.

"Yes. Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know. You just seem..."

"What? I just seem what? I'm fine."

"Look if you ever need to talk about anything." The younger man snorts bitterly.

"What is it that I'm supposed to need to talk about?"

"Your Dad maybe?"

"Nothing to say is there. We've never got on, and now he doesn't know who I am. So now I've bared my soul, can I leave?" Robbie just shrugs at him, somehow he doesn't think that his suggestion of a pint at The Trout will be warmly received. James leaves without saying goodbye, and Robbie drives home in silence. Something is eating the lad, something definitely has him wound up. However, its going to be a few days before James thaws enough to let Robbie have another crack at finding out what. Just as well they are off rotation this weekend. A few days apart will help get rid of the tension.

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.

.

James has calmed down by the time he gets home. Oh he's still irritated at Robbie, but he's more irritated at himself if truth be told. He'd forgotten Robbie's uncanny ability to see straight through the mask he puts up when things get bad.

Fuck it. He's a grown man, he doesn't need his former mentor watching out for him. Doesn't need anyone to watch out for him. James pours a generous measure of whiskey, and gulps it down, before it has chance to burn. He immediately pours another, and takes this one slower, although still not as slowly as he probably should, considering he's eaten little today.

He takes his third whisky over to the window and opens it, lighting a cigarette and smoking into the Oxford evening. Could go into the garden, but he can't be bothered, and he's on the bottom floor, not like anyone is going to complain about cig ash on their windowsill.

The cigarette smoke and whiskey burn combine in his mouth, and he knows already how rough he's going to feel tomorrow morning. He should stop, go make himself some food, and drink a couple of glasses of water. But as he's thinking this, he pours himself another whiskey and resigns himself to the fact he's going to get rat-arsed again tonight.

Laura would tell him off if she could see this. She could give him reams of statistics and studies about how this combination of nicotine and alcohol was going to damage him beyond repair.

Deep down, James has accepted that he doesn't really give much of a shit.

He passes out half an hour later, still in his suit, sprawled on the sofa.

The shadowy figure that has been watching him through his living room window sighs sadly before turning away.

.

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The intelligence is that Merchant has a firearm. His sister says its an air pistol, he's just mocked it up to look real. No one knows for sure, hence the wait for the firearms team to arrive as back up. Lewis turns to look at Hathaway out of the corner of his eye. The man is jittery, and he looks knackered. There's a frustration on his face, that Robbie doesn't often see. James is never normally this impatient with back up, when either of them remembers to call for it. He looks back at the front door to Merchant's house. The door doesn't look too solid, so armed response should be able to get in with no trouble.

He and Hathaway hear it at the same time. A shout for help from the bottom floor window. Merchant has a hostage. James grinds his teeth next to him.

"How far away is the armed unit?"

"Twenty minutes apparently."

"We don't have that time Robbie."

"There's nothing to suggest-" but to his disbelief, James has stood up, and rounded the corner, with a muttered 'Fuck this'.

"James, what the hell?" The inspector doesn't reply, but Lewis knows the bloody sod heard him. The fool is walking straight up to Merchant's door, and knocking loudly. Robbie waits for the shots, waits for both James and the hostage to be shot.

But incredibly, it doesn't come. Lewis is too far away to hear what's said, but the door opens, and Merchant comes out, without the gun, just as armed response scream around the corner. Hathaway comes back towards him, shoving Merchant ahead as a couple of uniformed officers arrest him and take him away.

Lewis follows a rapidly departing Hathaway, shouting for the younger man to wait.

The shadowy figure sighs again, watching them both go.

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.

They are both standing on the pavement, just at the edge of the pedestrianised area. They are the stop gap, in case the drug dealers escape the drugs raid and try to make their escape through Oxford's shopping district. They have their radios, and they have their orders. James' hands twitch, and Robbie rolls his eyes.

"Go on, get your nicotine fix."

"You don't normally encourage me."

"No, but I know what you get like without it and we could be waiting about here for a while yet. Go on, chances of the dealers coming this way are slim anyhow. All their known associates are on the other side of the city." James nods gratefully and lights up, inhaling deeply. Robbie chuckles at the contended noise from his lips, even as he makes a mental note to drop some of those NHS smoking cessation leaflets on James' desk at the next available opportunity.

Their radios simultaneously crackle into life, spurting out staccato information.

" _Stolen car heading towards Alpha Papa Three... Not related to the current operation...Silver Ford Mondeo...Reg Number Hotel-Golf-Zero-Five-Papa-Romeo-Yankee...Information coming through that there is a child in the back...Not being treated as kidnap...All received?"_

"That's us." James says, as Robbie gets onto the radio.

"Aye, Alpha Papa Three received, we'll keep an eye out, might be good to get a traffic unit down here for a safe stop tactic."

Just as he finishes, the car comes around the corner at speed, and Robbie runs back to their car, preparing to give chase.

What he isn't prepared for as he turns around, is the sight of Hathaway, walking out into the road, straight into the path of the speeding Mondeo. He can only watch in horror, as James stands head on to the vehicle and holds out his warrant card.

The car screeches to a stop, ending up barely a metre from Hathaway's kneecaps. James is hauling the suspect out of the car, before Robbie even has time to register that another unit has turned up to take charge of the crying child in the back seat.

Hathaway strides towards him, lighting up another bloody ciggie and looking totally un-bothered by what just happened.

"What the hell was that Hathaway?"

"Figured it'd make him stop."

"Oh you did, did you? Knew for absolute certain that he wasn't going to just plough right into you? Bloody irresponsible that was James."

James just shrugs at him, and the bloody boy has the audacity to smirk, as he heads back over to the uniformed officers, to give his account of what happened.

"Sod it!" Lewis growls after him.

The shadowy figure looks on, sighing sadly, and shaking his head.


	2. Chapter 2

Its been a few months since Robbie tried to talk to James. He hasn't tried to talk to him like that again, although he is still worried. But James and he are at least back to normal, which is always good.

Even if they are searching a forest for a missing woman. Its Halloween, and a mixture of non seasonal flu and leave, means that its left to the two of them to search.

They wander for about half an hour. James grumbles about how this is an anonymous tip off and they don't even know what part of the forest they should be searching. Lewis agrees with him wholeheartedly, but both of them grumpy isn't going to help keep their spirits up.

Ten minutes later, and James quite literally stumbles upon a corpse. Its not the woman they are looking for, but it has to be called in just the same. Robbie pulls his mobile out, and mutters.

"No damn signal, how about you?" James copies the gesture, and confirms what Robbie already suspected.

"Nope. Nothing. Little battery as well actually."

"Bugger it. Will you be alright here if I go back to the car and drive out of the forest to call this in?"

"Of course I will. I'm a police officer remember?" James grins at him in the fading light. "Or are you worried about leaving me alone on Halloween?"

"Ah I've seen you fight lad, more than a match for what ever ghoulies come creeping about." That gets him a laugh.

"I'll be fine. Like my aunt always said, 'Don't be scared of the dead, its the living that'll hurt you'."

"Aye, I'll be quick then."

James watches Lewis go, and shivers. He's not worried about it being Halloween, he's not a child. He's not even that worried about the corpse he's guarding. The young man is dead, he's not a threat, and the decomposition is such that he's been dead a while, not likely that the perpetrator (if there was one) is still about.

James could swear its getting colder. He shuffles his feet and rub his hands in an attempt to stay warm. Surely it couldn't take Robbie this long.

His mind starts to wander. He should call Nell. Is Halloween one of those holidays? You don't really call to wish people a happy Halloween. But she'll just start talking about Dad, and he really can't be dealing with that. He's fed up of being told he's being a bad son for not going to visit a man that has no idea who he is, and doesn't seem to like him much despite that fact.

James doesn't know what makes him look up, but he's a bit confused when he does so. There's a faint pale glow coming from the trees. The sort that looks like its coming from a long distance off, but somehow, James is certain that its not far away at all. Maybe its Lewis returning, could be the car headlights. James dismisses that thought. Robbie would just walk right on up to him and tell him to get in the car. He wouldn't just wait for James to approach.

"Hello?" James calls out, suddenly acutely aware that he's alone in a forest, next to a corpse, with no mobile signal. And its Halloween. OF course, there's no answer, and he shakes his head, muttering to himself. "Get a grip Hathaway, its just the moonlight bouncing off the trees." His voice is unsettling to him, seemingly loud in the almost silent forest. Not as unsettling as the little internal voice that insists to him that the concentration of light is all wrong to be moonlight, and in any case, the moon is behind some clouds.

This is swiftly pushed from his mind, as a shadow moves in the pale light. Its not curious wildlife, of that he's certain. It definitely had a human shape. The damned internal voice reminds him that he has no phone signal and therefore no way of getting help. Worse still, no way of warning Lewis, should he return.

"I'm a police officer. This is a crime scene, go on your way." The shadow, rather than leave, seems to solidify, and start to take on features. "I'll only tell you once more. Go on your way, or you'll be arrested. I am a police officer."

"Oh, I know you are, Inspector Hathaway." Okay, that freaks him out. Because despite his faith and despite his logic, he's getting sure that this thing, is not human, not properly. And it knows his bloody name.

"Then you'll know I have the power to detain you, for obstruction and wilful interference with a crime scene." The figure laughs, and steps into the clearing. As it does to, the moon comes out from behind the clouds and throws everything into sharp focus. The thing stands there, his features evident as human. One that James recognises, even though that's impossible. James knows, he held his dead body.

"You're dead." He stammers, "You can't be here, you died."

"Yep, And now I'm here."

"You can't be." But there was no denying it. Adam Tibbitt, the boy James cut down from a noose, was standing in this clearing, talking to him, as if he wasn't dead and James wasn't having some kind of break down.

"You can keep telling me I don't exist if you want to. It isn't going to make me disappear."

"But how can you be here?"

"Because its Halloween," Adam says, as if this should be obvious. "But you're the detective, should you not be questioning my motive." Either James had finally cracked up, or this was really happening. Seemed there was nothing he could really do except play along.

"Alright then...Adam. Why _are_ you here?"

"Because we're worried about you."

"That's nice and everything, but you don't need to-" He stops short. "What do you mean _we_?"

"A few people that you've had contact with throughout the years."

"Don't tell me this is going to be like some supernatural version of 'This Is Your Life'!"

"Just me I'm afraid. We only get one visit like this," He gestures to himself. "We can be around as shadows of ourselves as much as we want, but recognisable, only once."

"Why me? Why didn't you go to your family?" Adam looks sadly at him.

"Because I don't want to drag it all up again for them." The young man looks down at his hands, and for the first time that night, he saw the scared young student that the living Adam had been. "Its okay, I took away their sadness."

"Why me though? Why do I warrant a visit?" Adam snorts incredulously at him.

"Seriously. The stupid risks you've been taking? The drinking yourself to sleep? You can't see why there are people that are worried?"

"Living people maybe. Robbie and Lizzie and maybe even Laura. But why on earth do you care?"

"Because you're an arse and we don't want you in our realm just yet!"

"Oh thanks," James cannot believe he's being offended by a damn ghost. Then again, he can't quite believe that he's talking to one. "Nice to feel loved."

"I was joking, mostly. You are a good officer James, and a good man. You'll be a loss and this risk taking is only going to hurt everyone around you."

"I'm not-" James doesn't really know where to start. I'm not a good man? I'm not a good officer? I won't be much of a loss to the world? "I'm not risk taking."

"Don't give me that, you're talking to a bloke who hung himself James. I know all about risk taking. Rational people that want to live, do not march up to the door of an armed man and knock. And they certainly don't stand in the path of a speeding car!"

"Its my life and its my damn choice."

"Maybe so, but its not only you that will be affected." He changes tack suddenly, sitting down on a tree stump. "So come on then, what's the 'psychology'?"

"What are you on about?"

"What's your reasoning? How are you going to justify this to me?"

"With all due respect, I don't think I actually have to answer to you."

"That warrant card only applies to the living James, you can't strong arm me into going away now." Hathaway scowls at him, scowl deepening as Adam chuckles. This is really too much. Its bad enough that Robbie feels the need to look after him, let alone a bloody dead student. Well, its not going to be easy for the kid.

"If you can meet with triumph and disaster, and meet those two imposters just the same."

"Sodding Kipling? You're not treating those two imposters the same. You're actively seeking disaster and hoping that it fucking triumphs, you over educated arsehole!" Adam comes closer to him, and James' teeth start chattering. "What I want to know, is why?" This isn't the Adam Tibbitt James remembers. That insecure and unstable boy, has been replaced in death by a young man brimming with confidence.

"Go away Adam. I don't need this on top of everything sodding else. I didn't ask for you help, and I don't want it." To his surprise, Adam backs away, smiling triumphantly.

"Now we're getting somewhere. On top of what exactly I wonder." The ghost paces back and forth in front of him, and James feels waves of cold as he passes. "You're not worried about Robbie. Since he got with Laura, he's eating better, exercising more and he definitely seems healthier. Its not Lizzie either, you're proud of her, getting this cybercrime secondment, and she has Tony now he's back from Canada."

"You should have been a detective." Hathaway sneers. Adam carries on, ignoring his jibe.

"And its not Moody. He's off your back, now that you've proved that you can actually write a report longer than a post-it note."

"Well done Poirot."

"Who? Never mind. If its not your friends, and its not your job. Then it must be your family." James stiffens.

"Ridiculous."

"Is it? Your dad has dementia, that can't be easy to deal with. Especially since he doesn't know you any more, after having those strokes. And Nell is always on your back about visiting him."

"Have you been stalking me? That's an offence you know?"

"So arrest me," Adam shrugs. "And stop dodging the point."

"I'm not the first person who has a parent with Dementia, and I won't be the last. So your theory is pretty weak really. Maybe I just like the adrenaline?"

"Ah, so you admit you're taking risks finally. And I don't believe that for a minute. If it was just about adrenaline, you'd go sky-diving, or bungee jumping or something. You wouldn't be acting like a man with a death wish." Adam clicks his fingers. "You're terrified."

"I'm talking to a ghost."

"No, you're taking that well, surprisingly well actually for a man that trained to be a priest." Adam comes closer to him, compassion in his eyes and that makes James feel worse than he has since this ridiculous conversation began, because he's seen Lewis give him that look many times in recent months, and it serves to remind him how out of control this has all become.

"Is that supposed to be a compliment?" Adam ignores him again, continuing to talk.

"You're a clever man. The first thing you would have done upon your father's diagnosis is look it up. And you'd have found the information about the symptoms and what to expect. And you'd have read the causes of the disease. And a clever man like you will know what hereditary means, even though its not a given." Adam looks up at him, and what ever he sees, spurs him on. "And you are terrified James Hathaway." James tries to be dismissive, he really does. But now its all been said out loud, he finds he can't fight anymore.

"Wouldn't you be? Of course I'm fucking terrified. My father doesn't know who I am. Fuck me, he can't remember how to eat some days. He can't communicate properly anymore. Every time I look at him, every time he shouts at me to get out of his room because he thinks I'm someone else..." James swallows, visibly trying to keep a handle on himself. "I look at him and I think is that me in twenty, thirty years time? Am I going to be shouting at my sister to get out, looking blankly at people as they try to remind me of my closest friends." Adam blinks at him, not quite expecting this outburst.

"You don't even know if your Dad's form is hereditary James. Most dementia's aren't."

"And I don't know that it isn't. I've been a police officer for a while now. Who's to say that the only memories I hang on to, won't be dead bodies and fallen comrades. Hell I'll have no idea who Robbie Lewis was, but maybe I'll still remember cutting you down! I don't want any fucking part of that. I would rather be dead, now, stopping crime, than wither away whilst losing my mind!"

"And you think death is the easy way out?"

"Well, it is. And you're one to talk."

"Yeah and look how you reacted when you found me. A student you barely knew, a student you suspected of murder, and you were still upset. What do you think your death is going to do to your friends and family."

"Well Dad won't even-"

"Nell will. Lizzie will. Laura will. Robbie will. They will all miss you and they won't understand in the slightest why you took a stupid, unnecessary risk."

"Nell and me have never got on. Robbie and Laura have each other, Lizzie has Tony. They'd all be alright. I'm not conceited enough to think I'm so important in their lives that they'll fall apart if I'm gone." Adam shakes his head.

"Then you're not as clever as I thought. Or you're totally oblivious. Nell still loves you, even if you don't get on. And she'll blame herself. Robbie and Laura would adopt you if they could. And they'd all be heartbroken." James snorts, but he's not as certain as he was a few minutes ago.

"They'd get over it."

"You don't believe that. Do you want me to show you what will happen if you die?"

"Not really."

"Tough shit."

A thick mist rolls into the clearing, but it stays in a rectangular shape, as far as mist will. Despite every fibre of his being not wanting to look, he does so as a scene unfolds in front of him.

Robbie is walking in a grave yard, the same one that Val is buried in if memory serves. He's carrying flowers, but he walks past Val's grave. There's evidence of fresh flowers there, so he's obviously already visited his wife's resting place. James can't help it.

"I'll just put in my will that I want to be cremated, and have my ashes scattered. Then there's no grave to visit."

"Shut up and watch James."

He does so, and he can't help but gasp in surprise when Robbie kneels down at the head stone, placing the flowers in the standard issue vase set into the marker. Its not his grave, its Lizzie's. Robbie is apologising to her, and there are tears sliding down his cheeks. He stands up and bids his farewells, turning to Laura, who is waiting for him a few feet away. Robbie moves slowly, none of the strength that he knows the sixty-two year old has, but James instinctively knows that there's nothing physically different. The mist dissipates and Adam turns to him, eyebrow raised.

"W-what happened to Lizzie?"

"After you died, she had no inspector to take her on. Your death timed perfectly with DI Knox's return." James' eyes widen.

"How on earth did they let him back in? He got done for being over the limit on duty. Drunk in charge of a bloody car/"

"Well what with your death, and Robbie only being a consultant officially, they were seriously down on man power. Moody wasn't happy but the higher echelons overrode his concerns."

"And Lizzie?"

"She was assigned to him, and he hadn't learned a thing. They were on their way to a crime scene, he was over the limit. Lizzie was killed instantly. Knox survived, but only just." James stares at Adam.

"Why does Robbie look so old?"

"He blames himself. If he hadn't retired, Lizzie could have been his sergeant, and she would never have been in Knox's car. He looks old James, because this happened two weeks after your death and he's blames himself for not stopping you doing whatever stupid thing it is that eventually finishes you off." Adam looks at him pointedly, driving his point home. "You still think they'd all just 'get over it'? Lizzie won't get a chance. Robbie isn't going to be the same again. Losing two people in a fortnight, and blaming yourself is something that you don't get over."

"I-I didn't realise."

"Well now you do. And you know the consequences. So its up to you ain't it? Can't change your future James, whatever it holds. But you can destroy countless others, with one act of stupidity." James nods slowly, he can see that people do care for him, and however terrified he is about dementia, he doesn't get to bring about that future, just because he's scared.

"Can't promise I won't take risks Adam, I'm a police officer. Its in the job description."

"Taking risks to save a life, and taking risks to lose your own are two entirely different things. The universe knows that James, and now you do to. So don't do anything stupid. Talk to Nell as well. Doesn't deserve to be punished because you're scared, she's probably scared too."

"Thank you." James mumbles awkwardly. Adam smiles softly, and inclines his head.

"No worries. And James...It wasn't your fault you know. What I did. Your questioning of me was fair enough. I never blamed you."

"How did you-?"

"We can feel it. The guilt. Now I know you're never going to fully accept it, but I just want you to know, it wasn't your fault I killed myself."

"I...cheers...Um, now what?"

"Oh yeah that. Sorry, but I'm going to have to-" He reaches out and touches James shoulder, and James cries out in pain, as the spots that the ghostly fingers touch him, start to burn with the chill. The last thing he hears before he passes out, is Adam's sad voice.

"I'm sorry James, I didn't know it would hurt."

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"James? James! Wake up lad." He comes around to Lewis' worried face peering down over him. He sits up quickly and surveys Lewis carefully. He looks fine, no premature ageing, no weary grief.

"Robbie?"

"You were asleep on the floor James. Just how much sleep have you got this week?" He gingerly stands up, feeling out of sorts. That was a fucking odd dream.

"Not enough probably."

"I was only gone fifteen minutes lad. If you're that tired then I'm taking you home."

"I'm fine, really." Fifteen minutes. Felt like much longer than that. Dreams are weird like that though. Feels like an feature length film, but it only lasted an advert break. Clearly his subconscious has a lot to say about the behaviour he's been displaying.

"I'm sure you are," Lewis says in that indulgent tone that means he doesn't believe a word of it. "But even so, crime scene boys are here now, and it wouldn't hurt for you to get some rest." James nods and agrees to wait in the car, while Lewis directs the crime scene team, and the officer who is taking the case to the body. He still feels a little off kilter, but he reasons that he must be really knackered to fall asleep on some leaves, in under fifteen minutes and have a dream where his own mind gave him a lecture about being a reckless idiot. He's not going to dwell on why his brain decided to kill Lizzie to make his point. He's probably spent too much time around murder and death.

At that moment, Robbie comes back and gets into the driver seat. He gives James an assessing glance, before shifting into first gear and driving off back in the direction of Oxford.

"Pint?" James considers it briefly, but as appealing as the idea of a pint is, he's aware that he's probably had too much recently, and he also very probably needs to sleep, if only to get rid of this brain fog.

"Actually, I think I should probably go home and get my head down. Be fresh for the renewed search tomorrow." Robbie smiles at him.

"You sure you're okay, I don't think I've ever heard you voluntarily do the clever thing when it comes to looking after your body."

"Well, I fully plan to put you at ease by poisoning my body with nicotine as soon as I get home. And to be fair, I did fall asleep in a forest in the middle of the night. Even I can't ignore that."

"Good lad," Robbie says as they pull up outside James' flat. "Get a good night's kip in, and eat some bleeding breakfast won't you. Its probably futile suggesting this, but maybe don't have the ciggie." James grins.

"Yes sir, of course sir."

"Get away with you." He salutes as Robbie laughs at him, and drives off to his own flat.

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.

Its only when he sits inside on his sofa that James allows himself to consider the night properly. It really was a weird dream. Why would his subconscious come up with that kind of stuff, and why would it take on the guise of Adam Tibbitt? A bit cheeky of himself really, to tell himself he wasn't to blame for the boy's death.

James shakes himself. This is no good, if he's got anything from tonight, its that he really does need to get some sleep sometime soon. He pads into the bathroom, brushing his teeth, and washing his face. For whatever reason, he takes his shirt off, before he takes his contact lenses out. As he pulls the shirt over his head, he stops in his tracks.

There, just at the top of his shoulder, are five marks, consistent with fingers being placed there. The marks are slightly raised, and minutely colder than the skin around them.

"Well fuck," he whispers, hurriedly pulling on his dressing gown, shivering. There's no doubting it, there are five fingerprints in exactly the place where Adam Tibbitt in his dream touched him. Which can only mean that it wasn't a dream. He couldn't have made those marks himself, they aren't like anything he's seen. He could ask Laura to have a look, but he's not sure that he wouldn't be committed if he explained how he came by them.

Ordinarily, he'd run the prints through the database tomorrow at work. But even if he could find a way to get them from his skin...Well he's not entirely sure what he'd do with the knowledge that a dead student left fingerprints on his body in the middle of the night in a forest, because he was behaving like an utter tit.

The rest of the dream comes back to him and he suddenly panics, grabbing his phone and texting Lizzie. He breathes a sigh of relief, when he gets back a grumpily worded text that she's in London and she doesn't work for him again till the new year, and even then not at half two in the morning. He replies to apologise, before opening up his laptop. He writes an email to Nell, asking if its okay to meet up with her tomorrow, at the care home, before pouring himself a whiskey. Just before he takes a sip, he looks around furtively.

"This isn't a binge, its medicinal. I've had a shock, you ghostly little shit." There's a chuckle from his left, and he sees a shadowy figure standing outside the window. James raises his glass, and takes a drink. The figure raises his hand in toast as well.

"Thank you Adam." James says quietly.

The figure nods at him once, and then slowly melts away into the night.


End file.
